


my voice your candle

by so_colder



Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: Driving, Getting high, Good times, M/M, and listening to 80s music, and talking about feelings, and then hotboxing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-05
Updated: 2015-12-05
Packaged: 2018-05-05 03:57:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5360189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/so_colder/pseuds/so_colder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>his eyes are warm and sincere and nathan’s favorite shade of green, like florida grass.</p>
            </blockquote>





	my voice your candle

**Author's Note:**

> AHHH its done…… this fic is full of my blood sweat and tears (mostly tears) and is truly my love letter to every single natn/pickl shipper in the entire world bc you all keep me alive. thank u for writing/drawing/reading/supporting our most beautiful, wonderful otp. also dedicated to just… the ship as a whole. i love nickles so so so much and it means more to me than i can honestly say. thanks for seeing me through some real shitty times, you two. i can’t wait until u get married in season 5 xoxo
> 
> ANYWAY this takes place sometime post doomstar. 
> 
> soundtrack: cocteau twins - lazy calm

Nathan loves getting high with Pickles. 

He always has. Part of this stems from the fact that Pickles always has really, really good weed. But it’s also just kind of nice. Pickles is fun to get high with. He's chill and he’s funny and he knows all the best songs to listen to when you're stoned. 

They don't do it as often as they used to, primarily because they don't get a lot of time to themselves these days. They’ve got a very demanding fan base and a very uptight manager and three very, very needy little ~~children~~ bandmates to watch out for.

But tonight they've got nothing to do, nowhere to be, nobody breathing down their necks. So Pickles pulls out his bong and puts on some weird, ambient music that Nathan knows for a fact will sound amazing when he's stoned, and they sit on the bed and they get fucking high. 

"You know what I miss?" Nathan says after a while of laying together in companionable silence (he's not sure how long they’d been laying there, exactly - time always seems to sort of run together when he's stoned). 

Pickles makes a noise in response. Nathan takes that as a sign to continue. 

"I miss fucking, like. Just going out for a drive. You know? Like, not trying to get anywhere. Just… driving. I haven't done that in such a long time." 

"Oh, dude. Me too." Pickles turns his head slowly, meets Nathan's gaze. "But I think that's like. A regular jackoff type thing, you know?"

"Yeah..." Nathan frowns contemplatively. "Yeah, I think so, too. But, I mean. _We_  were regular jackoffs, you know. Like. Before all of this." 

"Yeah, we were." 

"So, we can do it again! You know. Just for a little while." Nathan sits up a little too fast. His head spins. He waits for it to stop before speaking again.

"I mean, look, it's not like we  _can't_ just go for a fucking drive if we want to. We're Dethklok. We can do whatever the fuck we want."

"Yeah!" Pickles agrees vehemently. "Yeah, fuck it. Let's go for a drive, dude."

Nathan grins, enthused. "Yeah!" A pause. "Wait, wait, shit. Do we even have any cars here? It’s, uh. Way too cold to take the bike." 

Pickles purses his lips in consideration. "Oh, dude.” He realizes after a moment. “Let's just take one of Murderface's cars. He's not gonna notice, anyway. He never drives any of them." 

"Oh yeah.” Nathan reaches out, pats Pickles on the head, because through the haze of pot smoke clouding his brain, it seems like the thing to do. “That’s a smart idea. Good job, Pickles." 

"Thanks." Pickles grins pleasantly, then abruptly frowns, looking off in the direction of the main room. "Oh, dude, wait. Speaking of Murderface. Should we, y’know. Invite the little rascals along?" 

"Uh. Well, maybe. They’ll probably be… mad. If they find out we went somewhere without asking if they -" Nathan breaks off at the sudden sound of loud, distressed shrieking coming from the main room. It’s definitely Skwisgaar - nobody else in the band can quite reach _that_ level of shrillness. It’s a true talent. Nathan is idly impressed. If he strains to listen, he can sort of hear Toki and Murderface yelling triumphantly, and he's pretty sure Ofdensen is somewhere in the mix there too, probably attempting to resolve whatever stupid conflict those three have created for themselves. 

He waits for the noise to die down a bit before continuing. "Uh. On the other hand. They're, uh... really... dumb. And annoying. And  _loud_." 

Pickles laughs. "Christ, I know. I don't want to, anyway. Just thought I should ask." 

“Yeah, uh. Then no." Nathan shakes his head, pulls himself to his feet and grabs his jacket under his arm. "C’mon, let’s get the hell out of here before they try to get us involved in… whatever the fucking disaster of the day is." 

Pickles shudders at the thought, follows him out of the room and down to the garage.

* * *

They've only been in the car for about 15 seconds when Pickles turns to Nathan and asks him very politely not to crash into anything. Nathan stares at him incredulously in response.

"What kind of stupid request is that?” He says finally. “Obviously I'm not gonna crash. I drive high all the time. I drive  _drunk_  all the time, and that's way harder. I'm fucking experienced." 

"I know, dude, I know.” Pickles says, placating. “I trust you. I do. I just started thinking about it, and uh. I don't wanna die, you know? Not like this, anyway. I still have stuff to do. Shit to see, or… you know. Whatever. So. I’m not really ready.” 

"Well, me fucking either. So clearly, I'm not gonna go crashing the car.” Pickles looks like he hadn’t considered that. Nathan rolls his eyes. “And besides, even if we did crash, which we won't, I would like. Shield you with my, uh. Body or some shit. You know, before impact. So you'd be fine anyway." 

Pickles beams up at him, headbutts his shoulder affectionately. "Aw, Nate. That's awfully sweet of you." 

Flooded with sudden embarrassment, Nathan rubs at the back of his neck. Getting high had the very unfortunate side effect of completely destroying his brain to mouth filter. He really, really hadn’t meant to say that.

Even if it was true.

"Uh. Yeah, well.” Nathan scrambles for an explanation. “It's… only because you're so tiny, alright. Like, a fucking pebble through the windshield could kill you. I don't want that on my conscience." 

Pickles bites his shoulder in retaliation. Nathan yelps, nudges him off, tries not to laugh and fails. 

"Ow, Jesus, don't _bite_ me. That shit hurts, Pickles.” A pause. “Hey, put some music on." 

"Okay." Pickles agrees amicably, digs around in his pockets and pulls out his phone before plugging it into the aux cord. Weird, loud music floods the car speakers. Nathan nods his head in approval.

"Oh, dude, that reminds me.” Pickles says, reaches into his pockets again and pulls out an incredibly enormous blunt and a lighter. “I brought this too. You know, so we can hotbox this thing." 

"Oh, man." Nathan shakes his head in near disbelief, starts the car engine and pulls out onto the road. "That kind of thinking is exactly why I so enjoy your company."

Pickles grins.

* * *

Nathan is really, really, _really_ high.

It’s hard to focus on anything for more than a few seconds at a time, which makes driving difficult. His head feels so heavy. He's glad there are no other cars on this road. He really can't tell how long they've been driving, but they’d finished off the blunt quite some time ago, so. It’s been a couple hours since they’d left, at least. 

Not that it really matters, anyway. They don’t have anywhere to be, no responsibilities to worry about. It’s a very freeing feeling.

Pickles is playing some _really_ weird fucking music that sounds really, really good right now. If Nathan wasn't high, he probably wouldn't like it, but he is and so he does. 

The car is nice and warm from blunt smoke and the heater is on full blast, but Pickles is still shivering, which doesn't surprise Nathan at all. Pickles is tiny, and he runs cold, always has.

Nathan can't help it - he worries. He's a worrier. Taking off his jacket and giving it to Pickles seems like a good idea, so he starts to pull it off, using his knee to steer while his hands are occupied. Well. To kind of steer, anyway. He veers into the next lane on accident a couple of times.

He's really fucking glad there are no other cars on this road. 

When Nathan finally manages to shrug the jacket off, he throws it over Pickles unceremoniously. It takes Pickles a while to register what's happened. When he does, he just sort of smiles, warm and gentle and it cuts through Nathan's heart like a hot knife through butter. Ugh, Nathan thinks, something like self-revulsion settling in the pit of his stomach. Fuck feelings.

Pickles doesn't put the jacket on, just sort of snuggles into it like it’s a blanket instead of a coat, which is. Really cute. And also really distracting. Nathan remembers suddenly that he's supposed to be driving. He turns back to the road. 

After a minute, Pickles’ voice cuts through the silence, contemplative and warm.  

"You're so nice to me." 

“ _Ugh_.” Nathan can feel his cheeks warming. "Shut the fuck up, Pickles."

"But you are, dude! You always have been. Trust me, I notice that kind of shit. Because, uh." Pickles’ smile drops. He looks out the window. "I'm not really used to people... looking out for me. You know?" 

Yeah, he knows. Nathan thinks of Pickles' parents and feels a hot flash of anger. "You're my best friend." Nathan says after a moment, resolute, eyes locked firmly on the road. "In the entire world. Like, out of everyone ever. So, you know. I really don't want you freezing to death." 

Pickles is quiet for a very long time. Nathan keeps driving.

"Thanks." Pickles says finally. Nathan hums softly in response, glances at Pickles out of the corner of his eye. He's looking at the floor, that soft smile back on his face. Nathan's heart does a gross little flip. Vaguely disgusted with himself, he looks back to the road. 

"Hey, Nate?" Pickles says after a while of driving in companionable silence. 

"Yeah." 

"Could you maybe pull over?" 

Nathan blinks, surprised. "Um. Yeah, okay. What for." 

"I really want to kiss you." 

Nathan’s entire body stiffens. He feels his face go bright red immediately. He can't find his voice, so he doesn't reply. That's probably for the best - he's not sure what he would say, anyway. He hesitates for only a moment, then moves to pull the car over.

His hands are shaking, just a little. He really hopes Pickles doesn't notice. 

He parks neatly on the side of the road, turns the engine off. It takes him a moment to gather the courage he needs to look over at Pickles. He's not looking at the ground anymore - he's looking up at Nathan through his thick eyelashes. Nathan thinks about how they're sort of tinged red, like his hair. Then Pickles leans up and presses their mouths together and Nathan isn’t thinking anything at all.

It's a very good kiss. Warm, slow, unhurried. When Nathan’s hands stop shaking, he cups Pickles' face, runs his thumbs along the apples of his cheeks because he remembers that Pickles used to like that. Pickles smiles into the kiss and Nathan takes that to mean he still does. He’s glad he remembered.

It’s been a long, long time since they've done this. Nathan had missed it more than he'd realized until right now.

Pickles bites Nathan's lip before he pulls away to catch his breath. His face is flushed kinda pink, which makes his hair look even more bright red than usual. Absently, Nathan reaches out and tugs lightly on one of his dreadlocks. Pickles doesn’t protest, even looks a little amused. His hair is so red. Hair on Fire might be a cool title for a song, Nathan thinks. He kind of wants to make a note of it, but he's too dazed to remember if he even has his tape recorder with him.

Pickles is smiling at him. He has a nice smile. And nice eyes. Nathan’s head swims.

He lets go of the dreadlock.

A sudden thought occurs. "Hey, uh. Is this.” Nathan inelegantly gestures back and forth between the two of them. “…You know. Just because we're high?"

Weed has always made Pickles really frisky, ever since Nathan has known him. Nathan thinks wouldn't mind so much, even if that was all there was to it. But he kind of feels like he needs to know. It seems important. Even if he really wouldn’t mind.

Pickles immediately stops smiling though, his expression turning serious. "No." Pickles says without a hint of hesitation, shakes his head. He reaches for both of Nathan's hands. Nathan lets him, partially because he’s a little stunned by this sudden conviction, mostly because he wants to let him. "No, Nathan. Not at all." 

"Oh. Okay." Nathan manages around the lump in his throat. His heart is hammering so hard it’s edging on painful. "I, um. Okay."                                                                            

He suddenly can't think of anything to say. He realizes that he’s scared. He remembers this. He remembers Pickles scaring him. Especially when they were young, and new to each other, and they used to kiss, sometimes, and sometimes they didn't. Nathan hadn’t known what any of it meant back then, and it had scared him.

He realizes, abruptly, that he still doesn't really know. He realizes, abruptly, that it still scares him.

He kind of wants to just. Get out of the car and run. Just run and run and keep running forever. Away from Pickles, and away from these… gross, weird, fucked up and all-consuming feelings. Away from this horrible, indescribable, irrational fear.  

But. He also really, really wants to kiss Pickles again.

It’s very conflicting. 

Pickles hasn’t said anything. Nathan has no idea what's going to happen next. He's been in love with Pickles for such a long time. It’s hard to ignore most days. It’s impossible to ignore now, with Pickles holding his hands, looking up at him, eyes warm and sincere and Nathan’s favorite shade of green, like Florida grass. It scares him. It scares the fucking shit out of him. 

"You wanna know something?" Pickles says suddenly. It immediately shakes Nathan out of his thoughts. The song playing in the car right now is pretty, soft and slow and unobtrusive. Nathan thinks he would probably Shazam it if Pickles wasn't holding both of his hands. 

"Okay." Nathan says, even though he’s not sure that he really wants to know.

"I, um. Dude. I really miss you." Pickles tells him thickly. "I miss when it was just. The two of us, in that stupid, tiny fucking apartment. Sharing that lumpy piece of shit mattress on the fucking floor, you know. Because we didn't even have the money for a real bed. And I miss that, you know, that one fucking shitty window. The one that was broken, so it wouldn't close all the way. And it made the apartment so fucking cold at night. And you -" Pickles laughs through the tears suddenly welling up in his eyes. Nathans hands start shaking again. "You used to hold me. When you thought I was asleep. Because I was always shivering. And you thought - you thought I didn't know. But I did. I knew. And you always did it. Every fucking night, Nathan, you always did." 

"Hey, Pickles?" 

"Yeah." 

"Why are you crying?" 

Pickles blinks. He looks surprised. He lets go of one of Nathan's hands and reaches up to touch his face, looking entirely taken aback when his fingers come back wet. He lets go of Nathan's other hand and scrubs at his face. 

"Shit." Pickles laughs, shakes his head. "…I don't know." 

"Pickles?"

"Yeah." 

"I miss that too." 

Pickles doesn’t reply right away.

"…You do?" 

"Yeah. I really do. And I, uh. I miss you, too. I miss you all the time." Nathan admits. Pickles looks like he might cry again. Nathan reaches out his arms and Pickles scoots forward, crumples into them immediately, cheek resting on Nathan’s shoulder, tiny little fingers clutching at the back of his shirt. They sit like that for a while, quiet. Nathan’s shirt feels wet where Pickles’ face is. He’s still crying. Nathan squeezes him tight, waits for the song to fade out before speaking.

"So, uh.” He begins tentatively into the silence. “What...um. What happens now."  

Pickles shrugs his shoulders. “Dude.” He sniffles. “I have no fuckin' idea." 

Nathan is quiet for a long moment. "Hey." He says finally, decisive. "You know I, uh... love you. Like, a lot. And, you know. In like… the gay way. It… really sucks. And its, uh. Fucking _scary_. Like, legitimately horrifying. Way beyond brutal."

"Yeah?” Pickles makes a little sniffling noise, wipes at his eyes again without letting Nathan go. “Me too." 

Nathan’s eyebrows shoot up. He pulls back to look at Pickles, keeps his hands square on those little shoulders to anchor himself. He… doesn’t really know what he expected Pickles to say to his confession, but. It wasn’t that.

"…Really?"

Pickles nods his head slowly. He looks like he thinks this should have been obvious.

Maybe it should have been.

"Yeah, really. Like, ever since we first met." 

Nathan laughs. "Oh shit, dude... me too. Ever since we first met."

"Really?"

"Really." 

" _Dude_." Pickles says, his face scrunching up tight the way it always does when he's annoyed. The way it always has. "What the hell is the matter with us? How are we  _just now_ having this conversation? It's been like fifteen years!" 

Nathan laughs again, harder this time. "Oh, man." he shakes his head. "I don't know. We fucking suck at this, Pickles." 

"Dude.” Pickles says, sounding half amused and half concerned. “Now  _you're_  crying."

"I am?" Nathan reaches up, touches his cheek. It comes back wet. "…Oh. I guess I am." 

"Jesus _Christ_." Pickles says, and starts laughing, covering his mouth like he can't help it. Even wrung out as he is, Nathan laughs too. Like he can’t help it.

Still laughing, Pickles reaches up with both hands and swipes some of Nathan's tears away. His fingers are so little. Nathan can’t help but to marvel at them a bit. His fingertips feel rough on Nathan’s cheek, calloused from years and years of drumming. For reasons Nathan can't really grasp, this sends another flood of tears down his face. Pickles snorts, expression equal parts warm and incredulous, and wipes those away, too. 

"Uh… So. What now." Nathan asks again, even though Pickles hadn't at all had an answer earlier. He looks like he's thinking it over this time, at least. 

"Well, dude." Pickles says finally. "I think that I really want a milkshake. Like, the kind with Oreos mixed in, you know?" 

"Oh, shit.” Nathan stares at him. “Fuck. Me too. Okay. Let's go get some motherfucking Oreo milkshakes." 

Pickles smiles fondly up at him. It squeezes hard at Nathan's heart, just like it always has. Fucking feelings.

"Awesome." Pickles says. 

"Awesome." Nathan says back. 

He starts the engine up again, pulls back out onto the open road. Pickles rolls down the windows, and even though Nathan is freezing without his jacket, he doesn't complain - the air is crisp and feels good on his face, clears his head a little. He reaches for the volume dial and turns up the music until it’s too loud. Pickles grins wide, makes the sign of the horns with his hand and sticks it out the window. Nathan starts to roll his window up. Pickles swats his shoulder and laughs.

* * *

On the drive home, that pretty, quiet song from earlier comes on again.

If Pickles wasn't holding his free hand, Nathan thinks he would probably Shazam it.

**Author's Note:**

> the song nate keeps wanting to shazam is also the soundtrack to the fic if u didn’t put that together lmao. 
> 
> he asks pickles what it’s called when they get home.


End file.
